


every person can't obtain this intelligent amory

by thunderylee



Category: NewS (Band)
Genre: Aromantic Character, Canon Universe, Casual Sex, Cuddles, Demisexual Character, M/M, Queerplatonic relationship, sapiophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 04:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16591127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Massu doesn't know what he wants until he finds it.





	every person can't obtain this intelligent amory

**Author's Note:**

> i fought through the ssri to finish a bunch of wips yesterday and this is number six. started during the epcotia tour for reasons i don't really remember. i think i just wanted to write from massu's pov. title is my own ridiculous acronym for epcotia. sapiophilia is an attraction to intelligence.

It started with Koyama in Sapporo.

"I miss my kitty," was Koyama's reasoning for helping himself to Massu's bed.

"I'm not a cat," was Massu's one and only protest.

Truth be told, Sapporo was cold and Koyama was warm. While Koyama was a snuggler by trade, Massu hadn't yet been on the receiving end of it. At least not like this, under the covers and still with only their breaths and heartbeats in the background. Melting into someone's strong embrace was a brand new experience too. Massu had only been this close to people who preferred to be held by him.

"Don't you usually go to Shige for this?" Massu asked on the third night, comfortably nestled in Koyama's arms after a long day of rehearsal.

"Shige doesn't like being used," Koyama replied, pressing the words into Massu's hair, and Massu wasn't sure whom he felt more sorry for.

He didn't have to ask why Koyama didn't go to Tegoshi.

Nothing changed in the daylight. If anything, Massu felt more relaxed. Usually, he was the one getting frustrated about last-minute changes and basically everything Tegoshi did, but this time he was calm. There were always some unforeseen problems during the first week of a concert tour, but Massu wasn't affected by any of them.

If the other two noticed that Koyama emerged from Massu's hotel room every morning that first week, they didn't let on. It was an ideal arrangement to Massu--Koyama would wait until later at night, after they'd had their baths, which didn't hinder Massu's evening routine any. And simply lying there while Koyama cuddled him didn't take any additional energy or effort.

"Are you enjoying this?" Koyama asked after the first show, when they were both still riding a concert high. "Being like this with me."

"I don't make it a habit to do things in bed that I don't enjoy," Massu joked, and Koyama scoffed. "What's with the sudden question after so long?"

Koyama shrugged. "You're distant tonight."

"I'm wide awake," Massu explained. "I don't usually just cuddle with people when I'm not tired."

"Oh." Koyama yawned, leaving no doubt that Massu's level of consciousness was not shared. "I wonder if this is what Shige meant about feeling used."

Before Massu could unpack that, the warmth he had grown accustomed to disappeared. "You don't have to leave," he rushed to say, turning around to face Koyama for the first time in this bed.

Koyama's sleepy smile was both comforting and condescending. "It's okay. I'm not lonely anymore."

On their last night in Sapporo, Massu slept by himself, and it was cold from more than the temperature.

*

Technically, Tegoshi was the one who had started it in Sweden.

Thinking about it now felt surreal, like it was a movie instead of Massu's own life. Barely a legal adult, he'd been whisked away to a foreign country with someone he barely knew, an overgrown child who was ignorant to the ways of this industry. What Massu did remember was having no hope that NEWS would be reinstated, resigning himself to spending the rest of his career with this brat and his ego.

A combination of emotional vulnerability and uncertainty was what ultimately brought them together, though the details were fuzzy in Massu's memory. The Massu of now would claim that it wasn't something he wanted to relive anyway, but the Massu of back then certainly hadn't made any efforts to put a stop to it, whether in Sweden or any of the following Tegomasu tours.

It may have been five years since it was just the two of them, but after nearly a decade of periodically orgasming with the same person, it became natural. As annoying as Tegoshi was, being with him was like being home, comfortable and warm and swaddled with affection. Once they got down to business, Tegoshi wasn't that annoying anymore.

Halfway through preparations in Shizuoka, Tegoshi didn't look surprised to see Massu at his hotel door. He was always good at seeing right through Massu's stoic face, or perhaps Massu's instincts simply didn't bother building a wall around this one.

It was a credit to how much Tegoshi had actually grown up that he didn't comment, just stand to the side with a knowing smirk that had Massu's nerves singeing in a good way. Not one for proper dating or casual sex, Massu hadn't been touched by another person since the last time the two of them were like this, and his body quickly fired up from the recognition.

There were no words; there didn’t need to be. Tegoshi simply guided Massu over to the bed and lay him down, hovering over him with a look of fondness that Massu hasn’t seen in a while. It looked like Tegoshi was about to speak until he descended upon Massu’s mouth, easily luring out his tongue and engaging him in a slow yet erotic kiss, quickly raising the tension in Massu’s body like he always managed to do when they got together like this.

Years of swift costume changes had their clothes set to the side in an instant, skin against skin as Tegoshi straddled Massu’s hips. Massu didn’t know he was hard until Tegoshi rubbed against him, pulling a moan from his throat that Tegoshi swallowed easily, hands moving down Massu’s arms to his thighs that gradually fell open.

Massu didn’t know where Tegoshi had gotten lube and didn’t want to find out, though his attention was elsewhere when Tegoshi swirled a finger inside him. He must have been giving off signals of submission because usually Tegoshi would ride him, even if the dominance pouring from Tegoshi was the same. It felt good anyway, Massu’s body arching as Tegoshi stretched him with intent, gentle yet firm.

When Tegoshi fucked him, all his thoughts and worries faded away, leaving nothing but raw carnal pleasure, the kind that invited scratches and bite marks the makeup staff had to cover up. Massu was grateful for the break, the few moments in time when he didn’t have to think or act, relying on his instincts and mindlessly giving in to the pleasure.

He would never admit to another living soul that he only experienced true enlightment with Tegoshi’s cock pounding into him, but he did.

Koyama shot them knowing looks when they would arrive at rehearsals together, the marks of their ambiguous passion uncovered and tingling in the open air. Much to Massu’s relief, Tegoshi didn’t smother him or even show any affection outside of their hotel rooms—he usually saved that for Koyama or Shige. Tegoshi had worked with Massu long enough to know better than to badger him for attention; they hadn’t gotten together outside of work for years.

Something about their arrangement left Massu unsettled, at least when he wasn’t taken to another plane of consciousness by Tegoshi. Afterward, Massu would try to cuddle him, but Tegoshi always ended up sprawled across the entire bed like Massu wasn’t even there. Eventually, Massu gave up and went back to his room to sleep, and Tegoshi didn’t notice.

“I wonder if this is what it feels like to be used,” Massu thought out loud as he stared in the mirror, examining the red lines and punctures on his skin that stung under his gaze.

Nothing changed when Massu stopped going to Tegoshi’s room, except that now Koyama was the one getting lectured by the makeup staff.

*

It ended with Shige in Tokyo.

After months of touring and endless rehearsals, Massu felt strange waking up in his own bed at his own apartment. He still had work, but it wasn’t as demanding as putting on a concert, and the stillness unnerved him. He busied himself with cleaning and other chores that had built up while he was away, and when that was done, he went to the market for ingredients to cook dinner.

On a whim, he sent Shige an invite. Shige was probably too busy catching up on his writing and million other interests, not to mention he required time away from all of them after being attached at the hip for months, but Shige accepted immediately.

Massu liked Shige. Shige was someone he could talk to about anything, whether it’s something random that popped into his mind or something heavier that has been weighing on him. They could ramble forever about fashion and music and the state of the world, the conversation always comfortable and interesting. Massu was never listless around Shige, because Shige’s a passionate speaker as well as a writer and could entrance Massu with his words.

Shige started talking the minute he walked through Massu’s door, ranting about Tokyo drivers as he unlaced his boots. His voice pierced through the deafening silence that had permeated the atmosphere, and suddenly Massu felt lighter, like everything was brighter just because Shige was there.

For as friendly as they were, these two butted heats in the kitchen like they were competing on a cooking show, arguing about spice levels and other preparation methods that they had disagreed on for years. Finally, Massu played the “it’s my kitchen” card and Shige begrudgingly adapted to Massu’s ways, grumbling the whole time in a way that amused Massu.

Naturally, the meal was delicious, topped off with a stimulating discussion about immigration that had Massu ready to fly to the States and punch their president in the face. Instead, he channeled all of that energy into cleaning up, with which Shige rushed to help.

They settled easily into the living room, relaxing with their full bellies and a pop CD Shige had brought over.

“The more English I learn, the less I like their song lyrics,” Shige muttered, and Massu tilted his head questioningly. “It’s like they have nothing better to sing about than women’s bodies and getting them into bed.”

Massu frowned. “What about the female artists?”

“Relationships and feelings.” Shige made a face. “It’s all so simple-minded. There’s so much more to life than having a person.”

“I don’t even think I can feel that way toward someone,” Massu admitted, and Shige nodded along with his words. “My version of intimacy is far from emotional and physical closeness.”

Flashbacks of being with Koyama and Tegoshi resurfaced in Massu’s mind, but of course Shige couldn’t see them. “What is it, then?” Shige asked instead, looking genuinely curious.

“It’s...loyalty and comfort,” Massu answered slowly, arranging his words carefully in his head. “If I can be myself without inhibitions and get along with someone who's also showing me their true self, it’s intimacy.”

Shige laughed. “By that definition, you and I are being intimate right now.”

“Are we?” Massu asked, offering his own chuckle. “I suppose we are. I do enjoy your company a lot.”

“You inspire me so much,” Shige said, and Massu felt something like a throb in his heart. “Just by being you, I don’t know. Every time we hang out, I leave feeling empowered like you somehow injected me with strength and confidence.”

Massu blinked. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Well, it’s true.” Shige looked down at his lap, and Massu could swear there was a pink tint to his cheeks. “I’ve felt connected to you for a while now, but I didn’t want to say anything until I was certain it wouldn’t ruin our friendship.”

“How are you certain?” Massu’s heart was now beating out of his chest, all of the pressure and expectations of an actual relationship swirling around his head and clicking imaginary shackles to his feet.

“I’m not.” Shige inhaled deeply and raised his eyes. “I don’t know what I want from you, only that I want a lot of it.”

That seemed to break the shackles and push away the suffocating thoughts. This was Shige; Shige who constantly complained about his dating companions demanding too much from him and guilting him when he prioritized anything over them. Shige who had several work projects and hobbies that he preferred to do by himself. Shige who was fighting the good fight and using his platform as an idol to speak out against sexism and racism despite the backlash from their company and the critics, some of which include other Johnny’s.

“You make me want to be a better person,” Massu finally said, because he felt it in his heart and it wanted to come out. “I feel grateful to know you.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to _me_ ,” Shige replied, and now he was definitely blushing. “And Koyama gushes declarations of love at me all the time.”

Massu laughed. “So where does that leave us?”

“Exactly where we are.” Shige smiled and reached for Massu’s hand, which he squeezed once before letting go. “Intimate friends.”

“That doesn’t mean what you think it means,” Massu pointed out, and Shige rolled his eyes.

“We’re reclaiming it,” Shige said stubbornly, and Massu patted his arm in mock comfort.

As they fall into another heated discussion about whitewashing in Hollywood, Massu settled back into his couch cushion a comfortable distance away from Shige. He had no desire to touch him, kiss him, or even sit closer to him. The mental stimulation of their conversation was enough to satisfy him, to make him crave more, until night became morning and both of their voices were gravelly from overuse.

“Shall I make breakfast?” Shige offered, and Massu gestured toward the kitchen with the last of his energy. He was going to sleep for a year—after eating.

That didn’t stop him from hovering over Shige and nit-picking everything he did that was different than the way Massu did it. Even now, Shige fought back, but he had a big grin on his face. Knowing that was for Massu made a special kind of happiness blossom inside him, the kind where he can co-exist with another person who shared his intricate definition of affection and wouldn’t leave.

Shige actually did leave, after crashing on Massu’s couch for a few hours, but Massu didn’t feel empty. Quite the opposite, he felt full mentally and physically, excited for the future instead of scared. He might not see Shige tomorrow or even next week, but Shige’s words were engraved in Massu’s brain and it felt better than a snuggle or an orgasm.

Physical contact was overrated, he thought as he spread out on his bed by himself, wholly content and sated.


End file.
